I don’t remember.
I don’t remember a thing.
I don’t remember a thing before this.
I don’t remember a thing before this morning.
All there is now is an echo.
Flashes of places and faces.
Pain in the body and heart.
The silence after a long-fought war.
As I walk out of my bed,
I feel my knees cracking.
I am worn and tired now.
I could not recall my face.
I looked for the mirror.
I found.
The first thing I told myself in the mirror!
Go away!
I felt the agony, and I walked off!
I waited.
I went back to see myself!
It was all scars.
I was scarred.
I then faced.
I looked.
It was not just me.
It was the mirror too.
I then moved on.
The mirror reflected.
Calling me out.
To show me my scars perhaps?
But I had to walk off,
For I am wounded.
And I cannot see!
Days passed and I miss myself.
I go back to the mirror.
The mirror had its life,
And had new marks,
Scars perhaps.
I asked!
Asked the mirror.
What’s its story?
Not one, but many!
And I walked away,
Feeling all the scars of the mirror!
Which is mine too.
ego feels..! 